Date: Mon, 18 Jun 2001 16:02:14 -0400 From: Michael Raburn Subject: DANIEL'S LOVE Chapter 1 THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS. NO PORTION OF THIS WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR. THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTITIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY FURTHER. ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTITIONAL. Guys I really appreciate all the great responses you've sent me after that the original posting of Daniel's Love. Because of these letters and the multitude of requests I have written the sequel. This version of the first two chapters has been reedited but nothing substantial has been changed from the original posting, just a few grammatical errors. Again thanks for your great letters. DANIEL'S LOVE Michael A. Raburn "We're closing, sir." I heard as I stepped through the door of the deli on Monroe Drive. This was my usual haunt for a quick snack when I did not want to cook and had had my fill of take-out. "Oh, I'm sorry, the door was open." I apologized to the guy in the sandwich shop. I had been working in my studio and did not realize how late it was. How had it gotten to be after eleven, I mused as I looked at my watch. "No, it's all right, come on in." he said as I had turned to leave. "It's my fault anyway, I should have locked the door ten minutes ago. What can I get you?" he asked in a languorous southern drawl. I had not gotten a good look at him when I first came in; he had the most amazing smile. It also seemed to be real, not that fake toothy grin that had become so emblematic of good service these days. He could not have been more than nineteen or twenty years old. "Just a quick sandwich, whatever is the easiest; ham and cheese, whatever." I replied trying to match that incredible smile of his. I leaned towards the cooler where the drinks were. Grabbing a soda, I turned back to where he was already making my sandwich. "I don't want to hold you up any more than necessary, umm, Daniel." I replied, reading the yellow nametag on his deli uniform shirt. Actually it read "Dan" but I had always been partial to the name Daniel. His smile faded quickly and I glimpsed a bit of a tear forming in his icy blue eyes. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" Immediately trying to apologize for whatever it was that I had said. "No, no, it's just no one calls me Daniel except my mom." His tears were now making their way down his silky cheek. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start crying. You see, she died a couple of months ago and it's been really hard. She was the only person in my life." He was trying to explain this sudden outburst to me, but only succeeded in getting more upset. I reached over and grabbed a couple of napkins from the dispenser, handing them to Daniel. When he reached to take the napkins the shock that I sensed felt like static electricity had passed through us. Startled, his eyes darted up to meet mine. "Here, dry your eyes. Want to talk about it?" I noticed that even with his crying, he had not stopped working. He wrapped my sandwich in the cellophane and handed it over the counter to me. I smiled back at him, trying to catch his eye. I am not sure what I sensed in those eyes of his, but it was obvious that we both felt it. What was I thinking? Here I am, a forty year old having feelings for someone young enough to be my son. I reached in the pocket of my jeans for some money. "No, sir. It's on the house. Anyone that makes me cry gets a free dinner." He said, beginning to regain that smile of his, just the corners of his mouth turning up a bit. Again making eye contact, I said, "You can't do that, you'd get in trouble with the boss. Can't have you loosing your job, now can we?" I smiled back at him; the faintest blush creeping up his cheeks as his smile returned. I handed him the five-dollar bill. "Daniel, sorry, Dan." I stammered. "No, it's okay, you can call me Daniel. I kind of like hearing it again." He grinned. "Okay, Daniel, want to join me while I eat this?" I gestured towards a table in the corner. "Umm, sir, I don't know your name." He looked at me blushing. "Paul Jamison." "Nice name. But, Paul, I've been here all day, the other shift called in sick. I really just want to get out of here." He explained. What did he mean about my name being nice, I wondered. "Okay, no problem, I guess I'd better get out of your hair now." I said, just a bit disappointed. I had really wanted the chance to talk to him for a while. My face must have reflected my emotions because he immediately responded, "Paul, that's not what I meant. I would really like to sit and talk, just not here." There was that smile of his. "Well, we could go back to my studio, it's just down the street." "Sure, that sounds great. Just let me turn these lights out and lock up." I gathered my soda and sandwich and made my way to the front door, Daniel following closely behind. A quick flick of the lights switches and then his keys were rattling in the lock. I stole a quick glance at him as we walked across the parking lot. He was also looking at me. It was one of those sultry Atlanta nights, the steam of the day just beginning to cool. Still quite humid, but the temperature had at least leveled off. June in the south was such a wonderful time of year. There were enough of these warm nights to let you know that summer was approaching, but the night air soon would cool off enough to be slightly chilly. I could smell the faint scent of magnolia blooms in the air. "So, Paul, I guess by the smudges on your clothes that you're an artist?" he asked. As I looked down, I realized then that I had not changed my denim shirt when I left the studio. It had been a long, busy day, one of the manic painting frenzies I have periodically. I was working on this series of paintings that seemed to have absorbed me totally into them. Once I started painting, nothing could disturb me until I reached a logical stopping point. Most times I did not even stop to go to the bathroom until it was almost too late. Yes, I was a bit too self absorbed, at least that is what my friends told me. "Yeah, I usually change before I go out in public. Guess I was in too big a hurry to eat. I've been working nonstop most of the day." I laughed, trying to explain my disheveled appearance. "Well, to tell the truth, it's all over your face too." He laughed. I had to find a way to keep him laughing; the sound of it thrilled me to my very core. "What must you think of me?" I laughed back. "Wouldn't you love to know?" he teased. "Actually, I think you're kind of cute, buddy." That cute blush again spread its way up his face. What did he say? Did I really hear that? My head jerked around to face him. What could this young man possibly see in me? I long ago passed the stage of turning peoples' heads, I thought. Here I was, a man old enough to be his father. I played sports back in high school and college but had let myself go in the last few years. Not seeing a reason to maintain my looks now that no one shared my life, I had developed into something similar to an old stuffed teddy bear. My hair and beard had not been cut in weeks and I was sure I resembled so old-time mountain-man hermit, something fresh out of the Appalachians. That is how I felt these last few months, like a hermit. "Huh?" "You heard me." He responded almost in a whisper, that fabulous smile of his fading. He slipped his left hand into my right one and squeezed lightly. I was astounded; my jaw dropped. What was going on here? I had only gone out for a sandwich and now this incredibly handsome creature was holding my hand. Had I lost my mind? It's too early to even be thinking about another relationship after the fiasco of breaking up with Tony. Why did I have to bring up that memory? Had he not hurt me enough already with his cheating and lying? God, I can be so pathetic sometimes; that was two years ago already. I tried to ease my hand back from Daniel's, only to have him grasp it even tighter. I looked back at him trying to read what I saw in his eyes. He was pulling off the cap he had worn to work, releasing his shoulder length black hair. When he shook his head and ran his fingers through it to loosen a few tangles I felt my breath catch in my chest. Only a few times in my life had I felt that kind of emotion for another person. I really had to get a grip on myself and stop this from happening. He was too young for me and obviously still fragile from his mother's recent death. He did not need me complicating his life. And, we had just met. What was I thinking? Walking beside him I realized that he was a couple of inches shorter than my six feet and seemed to have an athletic body. He reminded me of the soccer players I saw practicing at the park behind my house. "You play sports? You look quite the athlete." I asked. "Yeah, I used to, before I moved to Atlanta." The vacant look of sorrow again crossed his features. "Daniel, I'm sorry. I can't seem to say anything right tonight. Everything I say seems to upset you more. I can't stand to see you like this." "Paul, look, it's not your fault. A lot of things have happened to me in a short period of time. I'm trying to adjust to everything. Mom's death really took a lot out of me." He began to quietly cry. "She knew she was sick but felt that I should try to finish college before she told me the truth. I didn't know until about two weeks before she died. It was horrible, I felt betrayed that she hadn't let me know anything earlier. Then I had to drop out of school to support myself. She didn't have any insurance and the medical bills took everything we had including the house." He choked out. I dropped my sandwich and soda on the bench in front of my studio and wrapped my arms around Daniel. He tucked his head into my shoulder and sobbed freely; his knees buckled. Catching him under his arms I held him even more tightly to me, certain that I would never let him fall. Stroking his hair back from his face with my hand, I nuzzled his neck and tried to get him to hear me. "It's okay baby, we'll get through this. I know you've had a hard time, but believe me we'll get through it all together." I whispered in his ear, hardly believing I was saying those words. Why did I feel such a strong connection to this young man that I hardly knew? Why did I want to ease his pain? Why was I crying? I realized that silent tears were also running down my cheeks. All I really understood is that he needed someone to make it all right and that I was the person to try to do that for him. At that moment it was more important than anything else in the world. More important than the deadline I was working under, more important than secluding myself back into the shell I had so diligently built for myself. Daniel needed my support. "Daniel, baby, you'll be okay. It'll get better." I breathed against his neck. "Oh, Paul, please..." he sobbed. "Baby, it's okay, it's okay. Let's get you inside." Loosening my grip with one arm I tried to get my keys out of my pocket. Daniel only grabbed me harder. "Shush baby, I'm not going to let you go. Just let me open the door." My heart was breaking for him. This was too much pain for someone so young to go through alone. What had his mother been thinking? Why hadn't she tried to make this easier for him? We got through the door and over to the sofa where I pulled him down with me. His sobs turned to wails, and screams, his tears had long ago soaked through my shirt. There seemed nothing I could do except hold him in my arms and rock him like a parent rocks a distressed child. Reaching behind me I found the blanket that I kept in the studio in case I worked too late. "Come on baby, lie down here. You'll feel better." I helped him stretch out on the sofa. "Don't leave me." He wailed, grabbing my shirt. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere, just let me get your shoes off. You'll be more comfortable. Then, I'll lie down with you for a while." I eased the sneakers off his feet, kicked off my loafers, and pulled off my paint-covered shirt. I spread the blanket out over Daniel then grabbed a couple of pillows and eased in beside him. Even before I was fully lying down, his head came to rest on my chest. The fragrance of his shampoo mixed with his natural aroma wafted up to my nostrils. Man, he smelled nice. "Hold me please." He sobbed. "Gotcha Daniel, I'm not going to let go, okay?" "Thank you." "No reason, none at all." I said as I engulfed him in my arms. "Just hang onto me, it'll be all right." He was still crying but the bulk of the storm seemed to be over. His tears were still falling on my chest as I began to hum some old lullaby that my mother had sung me when I had a hard time getting to sleep. Slowly he seemed to calm, his tears lessening. After a while I heard his breathing even out and I knew he was asleep. How could anybody do this to the wonderful boy? Yeah, I know his mother had not planned on dying so young, but did she not know what it would do to her only son? Why had she not prepared him for this? Why does this great person not have anybody he can turn to? Irrational thoughts flew round and round in my head. What could I do to make it all better? What the hell was I doing anyway? Why had I brought this guy to my house? What did I think was going to happen next? I have enough problems of my own. I don't need anybody else's to deal with. Shut up Paul, you know you like the feeling of him in your arms. You know you could not just leave him there by himself. But he was by himself before I went out. Eventually these thoughts faded from my mind and I began to relax. I shuffled myself closer to Daniel, kissed him on the cheek and thought to myself that I would never let anybody hurt him ever again. I caressed his cheek and ran my fingers through that luscious long hair, again smelling his fragrance. Just as I was entering sleep I felt more than heard the whisper, "I love you, Paul." I realized that I was dreaming but still felt powerless to wake up. It was a dark, rainy night and I was running as fast as I could, trying to escape something. The thunder was deafening as the lightning sizzled around me. I knew that if I stopped running or slowed down that it was going to catch me. As I darted through the trees that lined the streets, I kept stumbling, always afraid that at any moment it would catch up with me. On I ran, harder and harder until I tripped over a tree root jutting up in the sidewalk and fell to the ground. I heard someone yelling my name. "Paul, get your ass back here, I'm going to get you." I realized it was Tony chasing me, trying to catch up with me. "Tony, what are you doing? Why are you chasing me?" "Paul, you bastard, get back here. I'm going to kill you." he yelled. "No! Get away Tony. Leave me alone." I screamed as I tried to get up. "Paul, wake up. You were screaming. Are you okay?" Opening my eyes, I stared into the incredible liquid pools of Daniel's blue eyes. Trying to figure out where I was and who I was looking at, I realized I was still hyperventilating. I tried to calm down and slow my breathing. "Paul, are you okay?" he asked again. "Sorry, baby. Bad dreams I guess." I was still staring into those wonderful eyes. "Daniel, what are you doing up? Are you okay?" "I woke up a little while ago needing to pee, so I just got up. And, yeah, amazingly I feel really good. It was so comforting to wake in your arms." He grinned at me. "Did you find the bathroom okay?" "Yeah, and the kitchen too." I realized I smelled bacon frying. "You didn't have to cook breakfast. We could have gone out." "Paul, it's the least I could do for you after all you did for me last night. Come on, get up. It's almost ready." He said as he turned to head back to the kitchen. It was then that I realized that he only had on his tee shirt and boxers. Yes, he definitely had the build of a soccer player, endless running up and down the fields sculpted those wonderful hair-covered thighs. The muscles in his butt flexed tantalizingly as he padded back towards the kitchen. "Coming?" he asked. "Yeah, let me hit the bathroom first." Standing in front of the toilet, I again approached those thoughts from last night. What was he doing to me? Why is he undressed? Trying to clear the cobwebs I shook my head and chuckled to myself. I flushed, washed my hands and splashed some water on my face. I still had the paint smudges from last night down my left cheek. I grabbed the hand towel to scrub them off and made my way to the back of the studio and to the living area of the house. I had fallen in love with this old place the minute I saw it. The 1940's bungalow never actually came into the real estate market. An agent friend of mine had known the owners before they died. When the family decided to unload the property they called Amy and asked her to find the right person to care for the property. We had had long conversations about what I was looking for in a house. I had a vision of a place I could convert into studio space for my painting and also have room for a couple of bedrooms and a nice kitchen and living area. I definitely wanted to be in the Ansley Park neighborhood since it was close to the city and I had easy access to all the galleries of Midtown. The fact that the museum was within walking distance only added to its value. Luckily, in retrospect, Tony and I had split just before the house came on the market. I could not imagine him ever being party to the vast renovations that the house had undergone. We became business partners very shortly after we had gotten together, he knew a lot about commercial real estate and wanted to start a brokerage. I had inherited quite a bit of money from my grandparents' estate and had the freedom to devote my life to my career as a painter and not worry about paying the rent. Tony had assured me that we would be successful with his know-how and my money, and we were. The initial investment had tripled in a little over four years--Atlanta was the place to be, it seemed. We had been having problems for several months in the relationship; things just were not what they seemed to be. Several times I had caught Tony in lies, usually little stuff like why he had not called if he was going to be late or where he had been. Later, money began to flow out of our accounts at a phenomenal pace but there never seemed to be anything to show for the expenditures. Some of our friends tried to tell me that he was using cocaine but I did not want to believe them, they had to be wrong about Tony. The final straw had been the night I returned from a gallery opening that he was supposed to have accompanied me to and found him with my best student. I was already hurt and disappointed that he had not been with me at my opening and was dreading the row that would develop when I got back home. Needless to say we never got around to discussing the opening. He and Eric were so coked up and involved with each other that they did not hear me come into the house. I heard noises in the bedroom; assuming it was only the television, I walked on into the room. A shouting match ensued about whether I should throw him out of the house or whether I should be the one to go. Our yelling roused the neighbors so much that a few minutes later the police showed up to see what was happening. They took our statements even though they did not want to get involved in a domestic dispute with three gay men. I was crying so hard it was hard to think, much less make any sense to the officers. No longer caring about what happened, I grabbed some clothes and left. The following morning I called my attorneys and had all the accounts changed and ordered them to use the bailout clause in our partnership. When Tony found out what I had done he was livid. I started getting threatening phone calls from him, telling me he was going to get even if it was the last thing he ever did. I really was not afraid of him harming me but I no longer trusted what he would do. Eric disappeared from the College of Art, telling no one where he was going or anything about the mess. He had been studying with me for a couple of years at the college and had been working as an apprentice in my studio. He was a likable kid who showed true promise to be a great painter. I was sorry that his life had been so rudely wrecked and by own asshole boyfriend. When the house came available I was ready to totally change my life and move onto better things. The little bungalow turned out to be perfect, the right size to do what I wanted to do with the place and in the perfect neighborhood. I did not realize until after the closing that the back part of the lot was heavily planted gardens, the perfect place to relax after a day's hard work. The builders did a quick and remarkable job of turning my concept into reality. The studios had wonderful north facing windows, perfect light for an artist and the living quarters quickly were renovated to the cozy nest I had envisioned. Three months after closing on the property I moved everything in and began to set my life in order. Three nights after I moved in Tony managed to get my phone number and started harassing me. It took the phone company changing the number twice before I was finally free of his constant calls. Then the dreams started. I would awaken terrified and drenched in sweat screaming my head off. It would take sometimes hours for me to get control over my emotions and to calm down sufficiently to get back to sleep. Depending on the severity of the dreams there were nights that I could not face sleep and would end up in the studio painting feverishly until I would exhaust myself and fall asleep on the sofa. "Daddy Bear, are you going to eat breakfast or stand there all day destroying that towel?" "Huh?" I asked, confused as to where I was and who was talking to me. "You seem to be a hundred miles away. What's going on?" Daniel asked, concern in his voice. "Hey, you called me Daddy? What's that all about?" "It fits you, you know. Caring, paternal, slightly older." He grinned at me. "Yeah, I'm old enough to be your real father." I blurted out, stronger that I meant. "So? Who's complaining? I am twenty four, by the way." he grinned, poking me with the spatula. "Come here Baby Bear, you." I put my arms around his waist and pulled him into me. "You need a hug." "Yes, Daddy, I do." His lips met me halfway in a kiss that was more loving and playful then passionate. He tasted vaguely of mint toothpaste and orange juice. What was going on? Here we go again. Why is this happening? "Daniel, we really need to talk about what is happening to us." I said as I backed away from him. "What are we doing?" "Paul, I don't really know. I do know that I feel something special when I'm with you. And I think you feel it too, don't you?" "Yes, I do. You felt so right in my arms last night, even if it was just to comfort you and get you to quit crying." I blushed and tried to get out of his arms. "No, you don't." he said as he pulled me closer. "You're not getting away from me now. Remember you told me you wouldn't leave me. I'm going to hold you to that promise." "What's for breakfast?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I was suddenly terribly uncomfortable. Not with Daniel, but with the situation. "I'm starving. I never did get to eat last night." "What happened to the sandwich I made you?" he asked, puzzled. "I think it's still on the bench out front. Other things were more important at the time." I grinned at him. "Way more important..." I drifted off. "Daniel, come on. Let's eat outside. There's a table and chairs out back on the patio." I opened the French doors, grabbed the plates and headed out. "Bring the juice, baby." I said as I looked over my shoulder at him. "Got 'em, sir." He chuckled. "Enough with the sir stuff, boy." I snapped back. "It's okay, you can call me boy, if that's what turns you on." He replied in total seriousness. "Hmm, hurry up. I'd hate to turn you over my lap and spank that fabulous bottom of yours at our first breakfast together." "You'd do that for me, um, to me?" he stammered. He seemed embarrassed by his verbal slip, quickly looking away. "Well, if I thought you needed it, I might." Shyly, I grinned back at him. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet mine. "Look, Daniel, anything you need from me, just ask. Okay? No matter how trivial. And, don't be embarrassed. We all have secrets, things we don't feel comfortable talking about. I don't want you to feel that way with me. If you don't ask, I'll never know. If we're going to be friends, or more, we need to be honest with each other." "Paul, you don't know how much that means to me. Just having someone listen to me really, really means so much. I've been alone for so long. I guess I don't know how to communicate what I'm feeling, what I need. There was never anybody that I could ask." A single tear tumbled from his right eye. I reached across the table and took his hand. "Daniel, baby, I'm here for you. I don't really know exactly why, but you're important to me." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Now, eat up. We've got things to do, places to go and people to meet." "What? Where are you taking me?" he asked. "You'll have to wait and see. Now, eat!" We spent the next hour talking about any and every thing that came up. I told him bits and pieces of the story of the mess with Tony, only leaving out his irrational threats. Daniel listened intently but expressed concerns about what Tony was capable of doing. He told me about his mother and her quick death from ovarian cancer. We talked about his aborted college education and what he wanted to accomplish when he was able to go back and finish. I found out he was in the last semester of his junior year working on a degree in literature when he left for home. He laughingly told me he wanted to be a writer when he grew up. We laughed at some of his funny stories about moving to Atlanta, finding an apartment and getting the job at the deli. Daniel seemed particularly interested in discussing my painting. After he had awakened that morning he spent a long time studying the works that were strewn around the studio. The three massive canvases that I had finished last night dominated our discussion. I explained that they were a commission from a collector in New York and that I had to get them dried and crated for shipment in the next week. Because of the value of the commission I felt that I had to personally accompany them on their journey. "What are you doing the end of next week, baby? Are you working?" I asked him. "I'm supposed to, Paul. What are you thinking?" "Well, I was wondering if you could shuffle your schedule and go with me to deliver the paintings. Mr. Avery is sending his private jet down to pick us up. There'll be plenty of room if you want to go. We'll get there Thursday afternoon, uncrate and hang them Friday morning and then have the weekend to explore the city. What do you think?" I prayed that he would find a way to come along. I reached for his hand, entwining our fingers. "I think that's do-able, Daddy Bear. I'm not sure though..." I saw the smile fade from his face and knew that he was worried about the expense. "Baby, don't worry about anything. Everything is on my expense account anyway. I've got to be there, the room is already booked-just the cost of doing business. So I'll have a guest with me, no one will care. I'm sure we can arrange a small stipend for you since you'll be helping with the labor of hanging those monsters." "Paul, you don't have to do that. It would be a pleasure just to be with you, I don't want you to pay me." He rebutted. "No, I insist. You work, you get paid. I have a couple of people in Manhattan that normally help me anyway. Now I don't need them. I've got you." I laughed. "If you're sure." He met my gaze. "Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll talk to my boss tomorrow." "Do you know how to roller blade?" "What? Yeah, I do. Why?" He looked puzzled as he answered me. "Well, a friend of mine roped me into buying a pair last year. I think he was trying to get me out of the house. Want to teach me how? You know, keep me from breaking something." "Sure, why not?" he laughed at me. "Why don't you go get a shower and change and I'll get this mess cleared away? We can drop by my place so I can change and pick up my blades." "Okay, that'll work. Let me help you with this though." "No, Paul. Go, get that great body of yours clean. I'll handle this." He grabbed my shoulders, turned me towards the house and swatted my butt. This boy had to be seriously deranged to think I have a great body. "Fresh..." I muttered as I complied with his wishes. What was happening to me? Was this love I felt? Maybe that shower would help. The shower did help my mood but did not seem to clear the confusion I felt about what was happening with Daniel and me. When I emerged from the bedroom I found him pacing around the den eager to get going. "Now, where are those blades?" I asked as I started opening closets. "Got 'em. Let's go." I grabbed his hand and the keys. "Okay, tell me where you live so we can get you ready." I dumped my roller blades in the back seat of the Cherokee then opened the passenger door for him. As we pulled out of the driveway Daniel reached across the console for my hand. The ten minute drive to his apartment was quiet, each of us in our own thoughts. His thumb was lightly caressing the hair on the top of my hand, distracting me a bit. I parked in front of a shabby two-storied building. "You live here?" I asked. "Yeah. When I moved here, Jack, someone I knew from college, needed a roommate. I don't like him very much and the feeling is quite mutual. I'll just be a few minutes. Why don't you wait in the car? I'll be right back." Sensing something was wrong, I grabbed his hand, pulling him back. "No, I'll go with you." I was adamant. Something was definitely not right about this situation. The lobby of the dilapidated, old building was littered with old newspapers and fast food droppings. A distinct odor of rancid boiled cabbage and used kitty litter made me want to hold my breath. We climbed the flight of stairs to the second floor then turned to his apartment door. "Oh, great! The faggot's home." Someone yelled as we entered. "Jack, this is Paul. I just stopped by to change clothes and get my blades. We're going to the park." "Faggot, you're not going anywhere. You were supposed to do my laundry last night. Where the hell were you?" he sneered at us. Dirty dishes and beer cans were all over the room. Jack appeared to have been drinking all night and was having trouble getting out the ratty recliner he was lying in. "Daniel, go get what you need. I'll stay here with Jack." I said as I pushed him behind me. "Get back here you little prick. I'm talking to you..." he slurred. Daniel looked frightened of Jack and embarrassed that I had seen this. I wondered if this was the normal type of exchange between them. "Jack, look we'll be gone in a minute and you can go back to your drinking." Daniel pleaded. "You sniveling little bitch, you're not going anywhere! I'm gonna beat your ass." Jack yelled as he charged at us. I pushed Daniel further behind me and turned to face Jack. "You will do nothing of the sort." I yelled. Advancing in his direction I brought up my hands to defend myself. "You just sit back down until we're done." I pushed him back towards the recliner where he landed stunned. He seemed to regain his bearings and began to curse at us, infuriated that two "faggots" were trying to push him around. "Daniel, get all your stuff. You're not staying her even a minute longer." "Paul, I don't have anywhere else to go." He cried. "Baby, get your stuff. You heard me." His bedroom was sparsely decorated with only a bed and a small chest of drawers, piled with books. It appeared more like a guestroom where nobody really lived--no pictures on the walls, nothing extraneous. While Daniel was opening the drawers and stacking clothes neatly on the bed I opened the closet doors and grabbed his suitcases and backpacks. It only took us about fifteen minutes to accumulate all his possessions and get them stuffed into the bags. The last things he grabbed were the huge pile of books and a picture of what I assumed to be his mother. Jack was still fuming and cursing in his recliner when we left. I ignored him but Daniel was beginning to tear up at his tirade. I nudged him out the front door and towards the stairs. Getting Daniel out of the building and away from harm as quickly as possible was my only thought at that moment. I was having a hard time imagining this sweet, caring soul ever living with that fool upstairs. I piled all the bags and books in through the tailgate of the truck. When I looked back at Daniel he seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Oh, Daddy Bear, what am I going to do now?" he asked me, almost in a whisper. "We're going to the park and you're going to teach me how to skate." I replied. "Everything else can wait." I lead him back to the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt for him. He was lifeless and staring out the window as I made my way around to my seat. I drove away from the building and towards the park. Piedmont Park was not as crowded as I had expected that Saturday morning, a few scattered people playing with their dogs and a few joggers out early. The last weekend I had ventured out the place was mobbed with teenaged skate-boarders. Daniel was still in his funk when we sat on the bench to lace up our skates. Those incredible blue eyes of his were clouded with a vacant look; he seemed to be lost in thought. Pulling him to his feet, I got us moving down the sidewalk. "I thought you didn't know how to skate." He said as he realized that I had been leading him along the paths. "Sorry, there are still a lot of things you don't know about me." I ginned back at him. "It's sort of like riding a bike, you know? I'm glad that you're back with me mentally." I said, tapping his head. "I'm still worried. But, I decided that you'd know what to do." He put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "I trust you completely, Paul." The conversation turned back to the trivialities of our lives. The early June morning was relatively cool, a few faint breezes kept us from sweating too much. We skated the circuits several time, holding hands and laughing our heads off, generally acting like kids together. We had been skating about an hour when I noticed three of my friends lazily strolling towards us. "Nina, Mikey, Robb!" I yelled and waved at them. "Paul! Hey, whatcha doing here? I thought you were tied to that easel of yours." Nina joked as they approached. She was the best agent that had ever represented me, responsible for the tripling of my sales. Tall, stylish, trendy, she always seemed to have men hanging on her arm whenever we went out to openings together. She had that ability to make friends with anybody at any time. Where I was the quiet, reserved, hermit type she exuded confidence and vitality. We had worked together for last ten years trying to increase my exposure and get more of my paintings in the galleries. Thanks to her the Avery commission was mine. I hugged them all when we were close enough. "Well, I finished the Avery triptych last night. Now, just gotta wait for them to dry completely, then ship them up north." I replied. "Guys, this is Dan." I pulled him closer. "Must be pretty serious if he can get you out of that studio and out in the park. I knew those blades would come in handy some day." Robb said, chuckling. "Yeah, and they're holding hands, too." Mikey grinned. "Enough, enough, you guys. We're taking this slow and easy." I protested. "But, we'll let you know." Daniel interjected, laughing. "Paul, I really need to talk to you." Said Nina with a look of concern marring her beautiful caramel face. "Mikey, Robb, ya'll talk to Dan a minute. We'll be right back." She said as she tugged my arm, breaking my link with Daniel. "What's up Nina? I know he's too young for me..." "Paul, it's has nothing to do with Dan. I think he's perfect for you. You do need to get out more and you could do far worse from what I see. He appears to be totally devoted to you. And, you've got a look in your eye that I've never seen before--well, not since you met that son of a bitch." I grimaced at the mention of Tony's nickname. Nina had known me for years before I practically begged her to be my agent. She had seen me through the initial phases of the relationship with Tony and was there for me during the crash and burn. She had held my hands through periods of artist's block and had cared for me when my frenzied work schedule had made me sick. No one could have asked for a better friend or business associate. "Yeah, he's great." I mused. I noticed Mikey and Robb had moved to surround Daniel. Their conversation seemed somewhat heated. What was that about, I wondered. "Do you remember that huge painting that we sent to Dallas a few weeks ago?" "The water lilies? Yes. What about it? Did it sell?" "Paul, we'd better sit down." She guided me to a nearby bench. "Yes, we sold the painting to a collector from Houston. She was absolutely fascinated by it and never batted an eyelash at the price." "So, what's the problem?" I asked. "Baby, the day it was to be shipped to her home..." she stalled. "What, what's wrong?" I was now concerned. "Someone slipped into the gallery and slashed it. The manager said it looked like it was done with a razor blade." The next thing I remembered was Daniel holding me in his arms, brushing the messy hair out of my eyes. "Paul, Paul. Wake up baby, come on, wake up." He cooed into my ear. Groggily, I turned to him and buried my face in his chest. "What happened?" I asked as I tried to sit up. Remembering what Nina had told me started me shaking with fear and rage. Why would anyone want to destroy a painting? Why would someone destroy one of my paintings? They were almost my children, each work took several months of my life and work. The planning, the initial drawings and the actual work at the easel absorbed me totally until I finished. WaterLilies had taken four months to complete, hours and hours of sketching at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. I spent weeks trying different placement of the image on the canvas before making a final decision. The heavy applications of acrylic impasto took days to dry. Daniel was caressing my head, quietly murmuring in my ear while I tried to deal with all these emotions. Who would do such a thing? "Nina, who did it? Did they catch him?" "No, no one noticed anything wrong until they were closing the gallery for the night. Roland called me immediately after they discovered it." "Why haven't you called me before? How long ago did this happen." I asked. "Four days ago. You were busy. I didn't want to interrupt your work. There wasn't anything you could do about it anyway. The police don't think it was directed at you, but I'm not so sure. We haven't told them everything." "Why would they think that? There haven't been any threats. What about the painting? We've got to refund the money." I was distraught. I had to make this right. "Tell the collector I'll paint her another painting." "Paul, she is so in love with it that she has agreed to pay for the restoration. She said something about it giving the painting more history. The restorers in Dallas have already started working on it." Nina gazed up at the sky, not making eye contact with me. "Actually, Paul, there have been some notes." "What notes? What are you talking about?" I asked, confused. "About six months ago we got this letter. It was some idiot ranting about getting even with you. I just thought it was some jealous artist. You know how crazy some of you painters can be. Anyway, I forgot about it until last month when we got another. I didn't want to worry you." "Nina, this is serious. I think Paul had the right to know. God, somebody could have attacked him. You have to call the police." Daniel was obviously upset. "You've got to take this seriously, now especially." "Daniel, I've got to go out there. They might need me to help." "Daddy Bear, you're in no condition to do this alone. I'll go with you." "But, what about work?" "Like you said this morning, this is more important, way more important." He smiled at me, pulling me closer to him. "Nina, can you and Robb make the arrangements? Get us a flight. I'd like to be there tonight or tomorrow early." "Robb, call the airlines. Book us three seats and call that hotel near the gallery. I'm going with them. Here, Mikey, call the police and tell them to meet us at the gallery in an hour." She barked out her orders, handing over her cell phone. Turning to me, she asked, "Paul, what about the Avery? When does it have to be in New York?" "We should be back in time. The guys are coming to crate them on Wednesday." "What about them? What if somebody tries to?" Robb turned back to us as he disconnected his phone. "Everything is arranged, you leave tonight at eight. The hotel's booked." "Robb, we need somebody to watch Paul's house, the Avery is there. Can we get it moved somewhere safer?" Daniel asked. "Sure can. We've got a security agency that we work with. I'll call them. We can also get the triptych moved to the warehouse. I'll call the movers." He backed away from us and began to punch in numbers. "Come on guys, the police will meet us in a few." Mikey turned back to us. The ride to the River Park Gallery was quiet. I was still too shaky to drive so I handed the keys to Daniel and rode in the back seat with Nina. She was trying to unlace my skates, no small feat since I could not sit still. Images of the people I knew; all the artists, the clients, and even the sales clerk at the grocery flew through my mind. Who could possibly do this? Tony? No, he would not do this. He had been mad at me after the breakup, but that had been two years ago. He had not even called in almost a year. The police took our statements, but offered little help. Their opinion was that it was a one-time occurrence and that they really had little to go on. They did take the notes that Nina had saved to add to the file. Nina explained about our security measures and the moving of the paintings. The detectives agreed to notify the neighborhood cops to be on alert when patrolling near the studio. Daniel and I returned to the house to find Mikey and the movers there. The canvases had already been padded and loaded into the truck. They were also loading the other works that littered the studio. "Mikey, none of these are sold. Why are you moving them?" I asked. "Paul, like they say, better safe than..." he trailed off. "I guess you're right. Daniel, let's get your stuff out of the truck. We've got to get packed. Nina will pick us up in a couple of hours." "The security people should be here in a few minutes Paul." Mikey explained. They'll stay here while you're gone. They've assigned someone to meet you at the plane in Dallas and he'll accompany you until you're back in Atlanta." "Is all this really necessary?" I asked. "It's only a painting." "Daddy Bear, it's you that they're worried about." Daniel whispered in my ear. "Come on, let's get cracking." He returned to the truck to get his clothes, Mikey followed him. I turned towards the bedroom, trying to remember where my overnight bag was stored. As I pulled clothes from the closet, I heard the guys bringing Daniel's things into the guestroom. It took a few minutes for me to stuff two changes of clothes into the bag. I crossed to the bathroom to gather my toiletries. Deciding a shower would make me feel better; I turned on the water and began to disrobe. As I stepped into the spray I realized that I could hear the conversation in the next room. "Mikey, is he really in danger?" I heard Daniel ask. "Your guess is as good as mine. But, I don't think we want to risk him. If this idiot is serious, he could be deranged enough to try to really hurt Paul." was the reply. "Oh, God. Why would someone do this?" Daniel asked. "I have my suspicions, but no proof. You two take care of each other. This could get messy." Mikey lamented. I felt my legs weaken as I heard the exchange. I eased myself down in the shower and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was numb, unable to cry, unable to think coherently any longer. I am not sure how long I had been zoned-out when I felt a pair of strong, hair-covered arms encircle my body. Daniel held me in his embrace, helping me to stand. He took the soap and bathed me as if I were a child. Tenderly he soothed my knotted muscles, easing away the grime from our day in the park. His strong fingers kneaded the soap across my shoulders, under my arms, and down my belly. My brain was still so rattled from everything that had happened to realize the potential erotic possibilities of being here with this amazing man. His soapy fingers caressed around my genitals and between my cheeks before moving down to my thighs and calves. Daniel carefully washed each foot and between my toes before he stood and pushed me into the spray to rinse. He took some shampoo and lovingly washed my hair and beard. When I was again steady on my feet, he pulled away and quickly washed himself. I found the shampoo bottle and tipped some into my hand; I wanted to wash that luxurious black hair for him. My hands caressed his head much as he had washed me. Now it was my turn to guide him back into the shower spray to rinse his hair. I moved forward to kiss him, tentatively placing my lips on his. A kiss that began as a simple "thank you" quickly moved to something quite a bit more passionate. Our tongues were doing battle, gentle caresses turned to teasing, licking and nibbling. I sucked his lower lip into my mouth and gently bit down. "Oh, Daddy..." he moaned, pulling back from me. "We'd better get out of here, if we're going to take it slowly." I noticed that we were both painfully erect. We took turns toweling each other dry. I caressed his naked body with the towel. His strongly muscled chest was lightly covered in soft black fur that trailed down to his crotch. To me his body was perfect, the perfect bear cub. Quickly dressing we returned to the studio area. All the completed works and several that were partially done had been loaded into the trucks. Mikey and Robb were headed out as we emerged. "Guys, we're going to the warehouse. These babies will be safe there. Have a great trip." Mikey said. He pulled Daniel away from our group. "Here Dan, this is a picture of Tony. I know you don't know him, but if you see this face, call the police and get Paul somewhere safe. Okay." He pleaded. "Sure, Mikey, no problem. I'll protect him." Daniel returned to my side. "Let me get our bags, baby." He said as he returned to the bedrooms. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you two." I hugged Robb, then Mikey on their way out. Nina was just pulling up in the driveway. "I'll see you when we get back from Dallas." "I changed the travel arrangements a little." Robb explained. "There will be an armed guard traveling with you round trip. Ya'll be safe." He turned towards the two paneled trucks, climbed in the first and slowly eased out of my driveway. Mikey took his place in the second truck, waved back at us and followed Robb towards the warehouse. At least the paintings would be cared for; no matter what else happened, they would be safe. Nina and a very large man with a noticeable bulge under his arm got out of her car to greet us. "Paul, Dan, this is Agent Barry Lewis. He'll be with us for the trip. We'd better get going if we're going to get to Hartsfield in time to catch that plane." After a round of handshakes, Daniel guided me towards the car and helped me ease into the back seat. He slid in beside me and wrapped his arms around me. Agent Lewis took our bags and loaded them in to the trunk then climbed into the driver's seat. "You guys just sit back and relax. I'll take care of you from here." His deep baritone voice echoed around me. "Paul, I love you. Nothing bad is going to happen to us. All the people who love you are going to make sure of that." Daniel whispered into my ear. Since it was a Sunday, the trip to the airport was relatively quick. Any other day of the week and the roads would be clogged with interminable gridlock at six o'clock. Barry made quick work of dropping off our luggage at the baggage area then got us ushered on towards the gates. Several alarms went off as we passed through the metal detectors. A quick flash of his badge dispatched the startled security detail that surrounded us. I was still so disoriented that I would have been wandering around like a lost child if Daniel's steady hand had let go of the grip he had on me. He gently guided me to the gate, through check-in, and to the plane. He even buckled me into my seat, found a pillow and blanket and tenderly tucked me in. Looking around the area I noticed that we were in first class seating. I was sitting next to the window with Daniel beside me. Nina and Barry Lewis were in the row behind us. "Nina?" "Don't worry about it baby, the gallery is paying for this." The flight to Dallas was uneventful; I even slept for about an hour, cuddled up next to my boy. I awoke upon approach to Dallas International and looked back to see Nina engaged in conversation with Barry. Ahuh, typical Nina. Got him wrapped around her finger already. I chuckled. "Daniel," I whispered "She's got her claws in him already." I nudged Daniel. "Shush" he giggled back at me. Another very large man was waiting at the gates for us when we deplaned. Agent Lewis greeted him cordially. It appeared that they were old friends. "Mr. Jamison, welcome to Dallas." Agent Parker reached to shake our hands. We were guided through baggage and to a black SUV parked at the curb. The "civilians", Daniel, Nina and I were guided to the back seat with Agent Lewis and Agent Parker in the front. "You are already checked into the Regency. We've arranged a two-bedroom suite for Mr. Jamison and Mr. Scott and another for Ms. Sheridan. One of us will stay in each suite with you. You are not to leave the room by yourselves, even to go get ice without one of us with you." He explained. "Isn't this a bit much?" I stared at them disbelieving. "Yeah, what's up Alan?" Barry asked "A few things have happened since you all left Atlanta. I'll tell you about it when we get to the hotel. We've had to step up security quite a bit." A sense of real dread and fear washed over me. How had my life gone suddenly so wrong? What was going on? I felt Daniel's arm around my shoulder pull me closer. I buried my face in his hair as I tried to control my shaking. What did all this mean? We were ushered through the loading docks of the Regency, into a freight elevator and up to our floor. There were already two more guards posted outside out suites. "Okay, I want to know what's going on? What is happening?" I almost yelled at the agents. "What happened in Atlanta?" "Mr. Jamison, please calm down. We'll handle everything. Don't worry." Parker's professional manner was really beginning to bug me. "Calm down! How can I calm down? What happened?" I was so close to completely losing the control I had regained over my emotions during the flight. I felt like I was losing my mind. "Mr. Jamison, at eight thirty, right after the plane took off a bomb exploded at your studio." "This evening a suspected bomb destroyed the studio and home of Mr. Paul Jamison, a well-known Atlanta artist. A security guard that had been posted at the home was killed in the blast. The police are not sure at this hour who is responsible for the bombing, but they say they are following several leads. Mr. Jamison who is represented by River Park Galleries is said to have received some threatening letters over the past six months. Attempts to locate Mr. Jamison for comment have failed. No one seems to know where he is at this time. We will have more details as they become available."